


One Last Time, Sir

by stardustandswimmingpools



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Dragonborn (D&D), Hamilton soundtrack references, Historical Inaccuracy, Just For Kicks, Light Angst, One Last Time, Sorry Not Sorry, anyway, anyway this is a fake fanfic it's not about a relationship it's abt, basically what im saying here is read it, bc i can't help but sing along, because i'm smart in that way, but i am a fraud because i do that in this, but not a lot of angst, damn is there a tag for it, dragonborn fandom im sorry for lying 2 u, gosh ao3 tags are pretty good, gwash and ham having sad feelings abt gwash leavin office, here ill type a letter and hit the first thing that comes up, hwat, i always have like 9723489 too many tags, i feel like instead of rambling in the tags i should put all this stuff in the description, i just typed like all the tags but i typed them into the characters section, i literally know nothing about history or politics, i want to tag this with something totally unrelated to the fic, im gonna stop talking right now immediately, it IS a tag!, it literally drives me up a wall when people put exact lines from the songs into their fics, it's just a telephone it's literally referenced twice that's all, it's like, jk u dont have to, laurens herc laf tjeffs and adams are all mentioned like one time, like history but with modern tech, oh theres a word for that, okay, read my fic, that's an official tag how cool, this song is sad, tjeff is mentioned like five but only bc ham is complaining about him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 09:08:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7261831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustandswimmingpools/pseuds/stardustandswimmingpools
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1. I am shit at titles. Sorry.<br/>2. I am shit at history. Sorry.<br/>3. I am shit at politics. Sorry.<br/>4. Ham is sad about Gwash leaving office that's literally it.<br/>5. This song makes me so sad.<br/>6. I'm leaving for camp tomorrow for a month without wifi so this is pretty relevant.<br/>7. HOPE YOU LIKE IT!</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Last Time, Sir

**Author's Note:**

> i know nothing abt history or politics it's in the tags it's in the summary but im tellin you again because it's true
> 
> anyway here's some sadness about gwash and ham their lil father son relationship coming to a close
> 
> this is stupid because it makes it seem like gwash is leaving office as soon as he tells ham he is which isn't the case obviously but let's just say it is like i said y'all im not a politician or a historian pls don't sue
> 
> just enjoy it ok

There was a knock on the door to George Washington’s office in the White House, at 10:23 at night, and he called out, “Who’s there?”

 

“It’s Secretary Hamilton, sir,” came a voice from outside the door. “You asked to see me?”

 

Washington found it almost ironic that, after everything, Hamilton still insisted on referring to himself professionally — Secretary Hamilton. He supposed he ought to have expected nothing less, but Hamilton was more like a son to him than a secretary. “Enter,” he answered.

 

Hamilton opened the door and walked into the Oval Office, then took a seat across the President’s desk. “What do you need, sir?”

 

“Secretary Hamilton. Good evening. I’m sorry to disturb your work,” Washington began, sounding apologetic. He hated to drop this bombshell on the poor man so late at night, but he needed an address drafted as soon as possible and Hamilton was his best man.

 

“It’s fine, sir. I wasn’t working on anything of urgency or importance. How can I help you?”

 

“You don’t need to call me sir, Alexander,” Washington said dryly, cracking a tired smile.

 

Hamilton blinked. “It’s professional, sir.”

 

“There’s no one else in here, son. I think we’re past the  _ sir  _ stage,” the President replied.

 

Alexander paused. “Alright, si— Mr. President. Is everything alright? What do you need me to do?”

 

Washington almost smiled, but the guilt of what he was about to tell the young man was slowly building up. “I have some unfortunate news,” he said.

 

“It wasn’t me,” Alexander said immediately. “It was Jefferson. Whatever it was, it was Jefferson.”

 

Washington spoke gravely. “Thomas Jefferson resigned today.”

 

There was a dead silence in the office as Alexander processed the information. “You’re kidding.”

 

“Not at all, I’m afraid,” Washington confirmed. “I need a favor from you.”

 

“Anything, sir — Mr. President. Mr. Washington? Anything you need. Jefferson will pay for this,” Hamilton said with determination.

 

“At ease, Alexander,” Washington said calmly. “I need you to draft an address.”

 

At this, Alexander’s eyes lit up. “Yes! You won’t have his filthy Democratic 

Republican views in your way anymore — sorry, that was out of line, but it’s true! You can say what you believe now!” he said excitedly.

 

Washington shook his head. “He resigned to run for president,” he said, prepared for Alexander’s disappointed response. Strangely, the secretary simply laughed.

 

“Ha! As if he has any chance, with you in the race!” Hamilton laughed. “He can’t beat you. The people  _ love  _ you.”

 

Oh. Of course. “Alex,” Washington said gently. “I’m not running for president.”

 

There was that silence again, more suffocating than the last time. Alexander’s face turned somber, almost confused. “I’m sorry. What?” he said softly.

 

“I’m not running in the race,” Washington repeated. “I’m stepping down.”

 

“But — but sir, Jefferson can’t be president! He’ll ruin the country!”

 

“This is not to say that Jefferson will win the presidency,” Washington corrected him. “Simply that I will not.”

Alexander’s formal demeanor was slipping quickly. “Mr. Washington,” he said quietly, “why?”

 

There it was. The vulnerability that the president had noticed when he’d hired 

Alexander, the young boy inside who had only ever known people for leaving him. This was, at the core, why Washington felt so guilty about leaving office — he felt terrible for leaving Alexander, especially since he’d regarded himself as quite the father figure to Alexander, having no present father to look up to. He saw the Treasury Secretary as more of his son than anything else — a hardworking son, for whom he worried constantly on behalf of his wellbeing. How much sleep he was getting, whether or not he was eating, if he and his friends were still getting on well. Washington had frequently been Alexander’s confidante, and to disappoint him on such a large scale made him upset with himself.

 

He knew he couldn’t stay in office forever — not only was he getting exhausted, the country had to learn not to attach themselves to one person. Still, he felt like he was betraying the man sat across from him now.

 

“The people need to move on,” Washington said, as gently as he could. “And I’m getting tired, truth be told. I didn’t want this position in the first place.”

 

“But you’re so good at it! And everyone loves you! You can’t leave,” Alexander said.

 

“I have to, Alex,” Washington said, leaning across his desk so he seemed less like a looming authority and more like a… a father. “That’s why I called you in here. I need you to draft an address - a farewell address to the people of our nation.”

 

“Mr. President, this isn’t a good idea,” Hamilton said desperately. “France and England are about to have at each other’s throats and  _ now  _ you choose to resign? And what about — what about Jefferson, you  _ know  _ if you step down he’ll win the race, it’s him or Adams, and oh God, what if Adams wins, that’s hardly better — and — and what about — what about —”

 

For once in his life, Alexander Hamilton was at a loss for words. Washington waited patiently, watched Alexander’s face as he formulated his final thought and spoke it with the utmost care, like a whisper.

 

“What about me?”

 

“Alexander, I can’t be president forever.”

 

“But who else will — who else will —” It was hard for Alexander to articulate this, he knew, but he understood.

 

“You’ll be alright,” the President said with conviction. The formalities had been lost awhile ago — it wasn’t the President and the Secretary in the room anymore. This was Alexander Hamilton, the poor, orphaned, guarded young man from the Caribbean who had lost everything, including his faith, and this was George Washington, the man who’d taken Alexander under his wing and made him his own, in some terms. Almost like father and son.

 

“But you’re — you’re like —”  _ A father to me.  _ The words went unspoken. Alex knew Washington understood. The president — soon-to-be former president — watched Alex’s face slowly crumple.

 

“I’ll still be a call away, Alexander,” Washington said kindly. “I’m not dying.”

 

“I’ll have to work for whoever the new president is! I’ll have to work for — for  _ Jefferson _ !” Alex shuddered.

 

“Secretary Jefferson might not win,” Washington said patiently. “It’s entirely possible that John Adams will win.”

 

“He doesn’t like me either!” Alex complained. Slowly his face reverted to the same lost expression it had taken at the start of the meeting. “Why...Mr. President, why do you have to say goodbye?”

 

Washington felt a small crack forming on his heart. He reached across his desk and took Alex’s cold hand inside both of his. Never before had he felt more like a father, especially to this young man who was struggling to keep it together.

 

“I need a break, Alex. You could do with one too, but I  _ need  _ one. I have given many long years to this country. I’ve earned my rest. I can only hope you will continue to help this nation thrive as you have successfully done in the past years. And in leaving, I — we — will teach this country how to say goodbye,” he said sadly. “I know, son. I know. I’m not leaving you. I’m leaving the white house. I will always be a phone call away. And don’t worry. You have Mr. Lafayette and Mr. Laurens and Mr. Mulligan in your company. You are in good hands.”

 

“I don’t care about those hands,” Alex said miserably. “Mr. President, you’re the closest thing I have ever had to a father of any kind. I never knew a father before you, and I know I resisted it at first because I didn’t know what it was like to have someone care about me but I know  _ you  _ care about me and you’re like my father and if you leave...”

 

“You will be okay,” Washington said.

 

Alex shook his head, stray hairs falling over his face. He sighed in resignation. “There’s nothing I can say to convince you otherwise?”

 

Washington nodded gravely. “I’m afraid not.”

 

Alex sighed deeply, as if releasing something heavy from inside him, then picked up a pen with numb hands and said, “What do you want me to write, sir?”

 

Washington regarded the young man for a moment, then slowly began to dictate his thoughts.

 

~

 

“Thank you,” Washington said an hour later, as he held up the draft of the farewell address that Alexander had written down in his narrow handwriting. The last of the ink was just drying, and poor Alex still looked unhappy. Washington pushed out his chair and stood, and Alex followed suit quickly. Always with utmost respect.

 

The president walked around the desk until he was face to face with the Treasury Secretary. Alex swallowed thickly.

 

“I’ll see you, Alexander,” Washington said gently. He fought to keep a straight face. He would not fall apart in front of this boy. The young man needed him more than he needed Alex.

 

Alex nodded. “Yes, sir.”

 

“There’s no need to call me sir.”

 

“Sorry, Mr. President. Goodbye,” Alex said with a reticent nod.

 

There was a pregnant pause before Alex tentatively reached his arms out and threw them around the president. In usual cases, Washington would have tensed and pushed him away, but this was not a usual case. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Alexander and held him tight. He could feel the man’s shoulders shaking ever so slightly. Alex was fighting tears, he knew.

 

Alexander squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath for a moment, tried to push back the tears threatening to spill. Then he pulled away from the president. “Sorry, sir.”

 

“It’s perfectly alright, Alexander. Good luck,” Washington said earnestly, ruffling Alex’s hair.

 

Alex nodded. “You...you too, sir.”

 

“You don’t have to call me sir anymore,” Washington reminded him. One last time before he left. “I’m in no higher position of authority than you.”

 

Alex bit his lip and looked at his feet. “Yes, Mr. Washington. Good night.”

 

And he spun about and walked out of the room as quickly as he could.

 

Washington sighed heavily.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks! for! reading! this! idk how to link stuff but i'm gonna try it so IF you wanna find me on le tumblr here is my spammy one it's [vivilevone](vivilevone.tumblr.com) my other one is justcuzfandoms but i use that less frequently even though it's my main funny how that works anyway i'm going to CAMP tomorrow for a month without wifi so i won't respond to any messages or comments or literally anything i won't have internet so UNTIL THEN amigos hope u read some good fanfics!!! byeeee


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